


Bring Him Home

by Leloi



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Ghosts, Javier's Suicide, Les Miserables - Freeform, M/M, Survivors
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-26
Updated: 2013-01-03
Packaged: 2017-11-22 11:39:49
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,863
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/609429
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Leloi/pseuds/Leloi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>December 25, 2012... John Watson goes to see Les Miserables on opening day and has memories of Sherlock's suicide.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Includes references to Les Miserables... the musical. The movie is based on the musical that's been in theaters FOREVER. If you don't remember the plot, Javier's (Javert) character development may come as a surprise. None intended... since it's a book and a broadway show and anyone who has heard the music knows what happens. 
> 
> The title "Bring Him Home" comes from Les Mis... sung my Jean Valjean.

John Watson stepped out of the movie theater on a cold winter afternoon. He knew it had been a mistake to see Les Misérables. The musical had been out for decades and he had read the book back in secondary. But the movie came out on Christmas… the Christmas after Sherlock’s fall. By the time Javier took his fall he was blubbering like an idiot in the theater. To be fair, he felt just a little weepy from Fantine onwards… but it was Javier that broke him as memories of another man standing on the edge overwhelmed him. Somehow he managed to make it through the end of the movie before escaping the theater. 

Had it really just been the Christmas before when they had their Christmas party? It was the day Adler faked her death and Sherlock had been depressed until New Years. It had been a danger week spent in the company of his best friend and he found he didn’t resent it. In fact John wished there were more days spent with Sherlock. But Sherlock was dead… not nearly as spectacularly as falling into the Seine and without a song to go with it… but just as dead.

Quickly John headed towards 221 Baker Street to pay his former landlady a Christmas visit. Ringing the bell he gave Mrs. Hudson a sad smile. “Merry Christmas!”

“John!” Mrs. Hudson hugged him. “It’s been a while. How are you, love? Come in and have a nice cuppa with me.”

John obeyed but tried not to look at the staircase that led to his former flat. “Just thought I’d pop in for a visit… See how you were doing.”

“I can’t complain. Here… have some biscuits. I baked them this morning. How is the new flat?”

“It’s small… quiet. I’m sorry I couldn’t stay.”

“I understand, love. Things were hard for you to always be surrounded by his things.”

“So… how are your new tenants? No shot wallpaper, I hope?”

“What? No dear… there aren’t any tenants.” Mrs. Hudson replied, passing John his tea.

“Why not?” John asked, frowning.

Mrs. Hudson looked around as if someone was eavesdropping. “It’s paid for.”

“What do you mean?”

“Every month I get the rent from Sherlock’s elder brother. He doesn’t want anything changed.”

“That’s… odd.” John replied, taking a sip of tea.

“That’s not the only odd bit.” Mrs. Hudson stated. “Sometimes late at night I hear footsteps upstairs.”

John chuckled softly. “Ghosts? Perhaps it’s a ghost?”

“I check up on the flat occasionally and sometimes I find the window open… just a crack.”

“Mrs. Hudson!” John straightened up. “Have you told Mycroft? And you’re here by yourself… there could be burglars about.”

“I told Mycroft after it first happened. I was terrified! I was told to ignore it… that it was someone connected to Mycroft checking through Sherlock’s old things.”

“And they can’t bother to close the window after they leave to give you some peace of mind?”

“It’s nothing, John… Mycroft keeps the flat and all its contents. He can do with it as he wishes.”

“Still… it’s not right to scare you like.” John smiled and resolved to contact Mycroft when he returned home.

^.~

“John Watson! Happy Christmas!” Mycroft greeted when John finally made it through various assistants to the man himself.

“Merry Christmas to you too, Mycroft. How is business?”

“I can’t complain too much… high level security and all that. You don’t have the clearance to hear it. How have you been?”

“You mean you don’t follow my every movement? I’m hurt, Mycroft.” John teased.

“How was Les Mis?” Mycroft asked soberly.

“You know how it was.” John answered, having a feeling that Mycroft already knew.

“That part always chocked me up too. The government man who is so sure in his righteousness, losing his reason for being… shaken to the core… I can’t imagine how horrible that must be.”

“Like Sherlock.”

“Mmm…” Mycroft hummed in a noncommittal way.

“I’m actually calling about Mrs. Hudson.”

“Oh?”

“She says you are keeping up rent at the old flat.”

“Yes… well… call me sentimental.”

“She says she hears footsteps sometimes at night… and when she’s checked the window has been open.”

“She did call and tell me such things.”

“It frightens her.”

“There is no reason for her to be frightened.”

“Why not? A stranger in her building, prowling around above her head when she knows the flat is supposed to be vacant.”

“Ah… but the flat is not entirely vacant.”

“Who is going in there?”

“Hmm… Tell me, John… when Jean Valjean ripped up his parole papers… who did he become?”

“He changed his identity… you’re not saying you have a former convict lurking in the old flat!”

“No. I’m saying someone changed their identity and uses the flat as their base in the dead of night.”

“Who?”

“I’m not at liberty to say. But have a load of work to do right now. Merry Christmas!” 

“Merry Christmas.” John replied as the connection ended. At least Mycroft confirmed that Mrs. Hudson was safe for now. His thoughts drifted to poor, lonely Mrs. Hudson. John shouldn’t have left her alone but his grief had been overwhelming and everything about the flat reminded him of the man that was no longer there… or was he? The random thought startled him. Instantly he waved it away. Sherlock wasn’t alive… he had seen the fall… seen the blood. 

There was a knock at the door and John found Lestrade on the other side. “Cheers, mate! Merry Christmas!”

“Merry Christmas, Greg. I thought you were busy today.”

“I was.” Lestrade replied. “But then I thought about last Christmas… about you and Sherlock… and Sherlock… so I thought you could use some holiday cheer!” Lifting his hand he showed off the box of beers. 

“Thank you. I had… a pretty rough day today. I went to a movie.”

“You didn’t see the Hobbit one, did you?” Lestrade asked as he placed the box of beers on John’s small table.

“What? No… not yet. I thought you wanted to see that one with me.”

“I do! So what did you see?”

“Les Mis… the musical one.”

“Shite! That’s bloody awful!”

“Yeah… brought back some issues…”

Lestrade shook his head. “I’ve never seen it. I read it ages ago…”

“It made me think of Sherlock…”

Lestrade clapped John on the shoulder and handed him a beer. “The bastard…” Picking up his own beer he clinked their bottles together. “To Sherlock!” 

“To Sherlock.” John echoed and took a sip. 

“I have a case I could use your help with.”

“We’ve been over this… Sherlock was the one who did all the work.”

Lestrade waved John’s concerns away. “Medical stuff… he could work with chemistry but you’re a doctor. I was hoping I could get you to consult more often. You’ve been moping around here long enough… barely go to work at the clinic anymore… you need to get out, mate.”

“You’ve been talking to Mycroft, haven’t you?”

“We keep in touch. He’s concerned about you.”

John gave Lestrade a hurt look.

“I’m concerned about you too. We’re friends, right? This isn’t healthy, John. It’s been six months. I have work for you… we could use a good man like you in the Yard. We can pull some strings and get you some money for your work. He wouldn’t have wanted you to brood like this.”

“Unfortunately we don’t know what he would have wanted…”

“He would have wanted you to move on… keep up his work. You were a part of his work. Do you want his legacy to die along with him? You’re the only one he trusted enough to work with.”

John blinked back sudden tears, still emotionally fragile from the movie he had watched. “I miss him.”

“I know.” Lestrade rested his hand on John’s shoulder. “I do too. So what do you think? Can you stand to work with me on a more regular basis?”

John nodded mutely and gave his DI friend a small smile. “Yeah… for Sherlock.”

“For Sherlock!” Lestrade smiled and clinked their bottles together again.

Fin


	2. Empty Chairs at Empty Tables

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John visits his old flat on December 31, 2012.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I accidentally posted this chapter to the wrong story! Here starts the slash... kinda...

It was a dark and cold night just on the eve of the New Year. John made his way up the ladders of the fire escape behind 221 Baker Street to make his way, unseen into the building. From the outside of the building he had seen the window open in his old flat and the thrill of finding out who or what was inside urged him on. He made his way to the open window and slipped inside, careful not to kick over the desk or the music stand as he made his way blindly into the room. 

Footsteps could be heard moving around Sherlock’s old bedroom and he crept towards the door. Raising his gun he opened the door and turned on his torch. 

Someone in a ski mask stared back at him and launched themselves at the former soldier, knocking him roughly to the floor. John struggled for the upper hand, straddling the masked invader. “Hands up! The landlady is calling the Met!”

“She’s not even here tonight!” A male baritone voice replied as hips bucked up under John to try and dislodge him. “Get off of me, you bloody oaf!”

“I think not!” John replied, shining his torch at the man below him at the blinking man. Reaching down he managed to rip off the ski mask and sat in shock, using the torch to study the one below him. 

Sherlock finally managed to keep his eyes open in the light longer than two seconds and he squinted up at the figure behind the light. “Get off!”

“But you’re… you’re dead.”

“Do I look dead?”

John obeyed his first instinct and slugged the man before raising the torch to check the wound. “Bleeding… do ghosts bleed?”

“Ow! You moron! What kind of test is THAT?”

John slapped him across the face, leaving a large red welt. “THAT’S for pretending to be DEAD!”

“Get off!” Sherlock whined, pushing John from his perch and sat up, rubbing his face. “I probably deserved that…”

“You’re bloody well right you deserved that!” John shot back. “I thought you were dead! I thought you were a burglar! You’re scaring the hell out of Mrs. Hudson! I assume it’s you who’s been walking around up here and leaving the window open! You daft git! You’ve been terrorizing her!”

“Stop it! Shh!” Sherlock put a finger over his lips. “Yes… it’s been me. But I’ve only needed access to some of my old things. I always come late and when no one is following.”

“But you don’t close the window all the way so instead of thinking you’re a ghost she KNOWS someone has been up here!” John replied. “Someone has been prowling around a flat that’s supposed to be EMPTY!”

“Ok! Ok! Maybe I didn’t give her enough credit for being observant. The window is only open a crack so I can get in when I need to. It shouldn’t be noticeable from the street…”

“God, Sherlock! You’re such a…!” But John didn’t finish his sentence. Instead he rubbed his forehead with the back of his hand. “Irene did it to you… and you did it to me!”

“John…” Sherlock’s voice went soft and he leaned closer. 

“And Mycroft KNEW! Of course he knew… he knows EVERYTHING! Is that why he’s been keeping watch on me? So you can both have a laugh seeing me work through this?”

“It’s not what you think…”

“I think now… that you saw a way to be rid of me and just… threw yourself from the nearest building. I think you saw Irene do it and thought, ‘Hey! Now there’s a way to be rid of anyone who cares about me!’”

Sherlock reached out and touched John’s hand. “Stop! Will you listen? Irene did it to save herself. I didn’t do it to save myself. I did it for you!”

John pulled his hand away as if he’d been stung. “Don’t touch me!” John cried out and pulled away, scooting away from Sherlock towards the bedroom door.

“I did it for you, John. To keep you safe… you couldn’t follow me.” 

“I thought you DIED! I mourned you! I cried for you! I’ve spent… so much time at your grave!”

“I know…”

“No! You don’t know! Irene was dead for what? A week? It’s been over six months! Where have you been besides here? You know what? I don’t want to know.” John got to his feet and headed out the bedroom door, heading for the front door of the flat. “Have a nice afterlife!” 

“John… please!” But at that moment there was a sound of broken glass and something hit the wall across from the window. “Get down!” Sherlock scrambled for John, dragging him to the floor underneath him. 

“What the hell was that?” John asked from where he lay on the floor with Sherlock crouched over him.

“That is what I’ve been dodging the past six months!” Sherlock responded sharply. “You’re making too much noise! They’re watching the flat, you know.” 

“WHO?” John demanded.

“Moriarty’s assassins.” Sherlock replied bitterly. “There’s two left out of three.”

“Why are they… watching the flat?”

“They must have noticed you.” Sherlock moaned and rested his head on John’s chest a moment. 

“Noticed me?”

“There’s one on your tail.” Sherlock replied, digging out his mobile. “Or it’s the one on Mrs. Hudson’s tail. I already got Lestrade’s tail.” Punching in some digits he held the mobile to his ear. “The flat has been compromised. Send backup to Mrs. Hudson’s location… No. John’s with me. Yeah… I know… Just get Mrs. Hudson safe.” Tucking his mobile away he started crawling towards the front door. “Come along… this way.”

“Where are we going?” John demanded.

“Safe house.” Sherlock replied, looking back at John. 

“Right…” John replied, following Sherlock Holmes once more.

^.~

Sherlock nervously paced the small room like a caged tiger. 

“I should look at your cheek.”

“Quite alright…” Sherlock replied not even stopping from his pacing. A few moments later his mobile rang and he answered it. “You got her? Good. Yeah… We’ll stay low until backup arrives.” Sliding his mobile away he stopped his pacing to sit on the single bed in the room. There wasn’t much to the room, just a bed and a mini fridge. Through a door there was a small bathroom. “You should probably get some sleep. We’re going to be here for a while until it’s safe for Mycroft to come get us.”

“I’m sorry… I didn’t realize…”

Sherlock waved his apology away. “You didn’t know.”

John sat down on the bed beside his former friend. “I missed you.”

Sherlock bowed his head and leaned closer to John, resting their shoulders together.

John wrapped an arm around the other man’s waist. “I… thought about following you.”

“I know…” Sherlock replied quietly. “I’m sorry.”

“But every time I tried… your brother or Greg… they had impeccable timing.”

“I know.” Sherlock repeated. “Mycroft has surveillance on you. I’ve watched…” Sherlock bit his lip. “I’ve watched you try to move on.” His eyes misted over and he stared down at his hands. “You’re not doing very well.”

John stared down at Sherlock’s hands too… ashamed at what Sherlock might have seen at his low points. Carefully he reached out and touched Sherlock’s hand, watching fingers thread with his own. 

“And you’re the strong one…” Sherlock let out a strangled chuckle.

John rested his cheek on Sherlock’s shoulder, closing his eyes to take in the warmth of the man beside him. “They wouldn’t let me touch you… when you fell… It didn’t matter to them that… I was… Who I was…”

“If you touched me you would have known it wasn’t real. You had to believe. You had to mourn. It was the only way to keep you from being killed.”

“I could have gone with you… you could have told me… warned me! Mycroft knew… I’m beginning to think Greg knew since he made it a point to cheer me up when I was feeling down.”

“He learned recently… after his tail was taken out. Molly also knew.”

John blinked back the sudden tears. It seemed everyone else knew… except poor Mrs. Hudson who thought a burglar had been wandering around above her head. 

“John…” Sherlock lightly touched John’s cheek. “John… please…” Lightly his fingers caressed John’s face and neck. “You know now. I won’t let them hurt you. I won’t let them take you away.” The mobile went off and Sherlock checked it. “It was Mrs. Hudson’s tail. He’s been taken out.” With a heavy sigh Sherlock returned his mobile to his pocket. “He built a nest in the building across the street from the flat, watching her coming and going. He saw you poking around and heard you yelling.”

“Shit… I’m sorry…” 

“He was caught.” Sherlock sighed. “That just leaves one… yours.”

“Is there anything I can do?”

“Not right now. Mrs. Hudson’s tail probably alerted yours that you were at the old flat. It’s not safe to return to it… or your own flat. I’ll have Mycroft keep you in protective custody.”

“No! Take me with you. Let me help you, Sherlock! There’s only one left so let me help.”

“John…” Sherlock sounded weary. Gently he pushed John down onto the bed. “It’s late. Mycroft’s team won’t be here for a few more hours. You should get some rest.”

John caught Sherlock’s hands and pulled him down beside him on the small bed. “You too.”

With a put upon sigh Sherlock laid down next to John, his wrists being pulled so he was forced to spoon the other man. “I’m not tired.”

“You look exhausted. Don’t argue with your doctor!” John replied, pulling Sherlock’s hand to rest on his chest. “I’m afraid you’re going to leave me again if I fall asleep. Or that this will be all a dream and I’ll wake up in my own bed.”

Sherlock tightened his arm a moment and bowed his head against the back of John’s head, taking in his scent at the back of the neck. John was always a source of comfort. Being near him was soothing as any drug he had ever known. They had shared a bed only once… what seemed like ages ago in Dartmoor. Their room had only one bed and with the case complete he had stumbled into bed, curled up behind John… his only friend. John… And Sherlock had slept peacefully that night. Their limbs had been tangled together when they woke the next morning and they never spoke of how nice it was… like waking with a lover, except Sherlock had no experience with lovers before waking with John that morning. It was something he had enjoyed and so it didn’t bother him that John held his arm in the small bed they shared at the safe house. Opening his palm he pressed it against John’s sternum, gauging John’s breath. 

John’s thumb lightly caressed the back of Sherlock’s hand as he clutched the appendage to himself.

Sherlock shifted closer, tucking his knees behind John’s, their pelvises slotted together, his chest against John’s back. 

“When this is over…” John began and stopped, taking several deep breaths. “When we’re safe again… can we…?”

“Anything, John…” Sherlock replied tightening his hold on the shorter man cradled against him.

John chuckled softly. “I mean… would you be willing to share a flat with me?”

“Of course.” Sherlock replied. For a moment he wondered if John meant something else. 

John continued to caress the back of Sherlock’s hand with his thumb. “Your hand is cold.”

“My hands are always cold.”

“Not always.” John whispered moving Sherlock’s hand under his shirt to rest against the warm skin of his chest.

Something stirred in Sherlock’s pants and he made his hand into a fist against John’s chest, pulling him back further as his nose and lips explored the scent at the back of the soldier’s neck. Desire washed through him and he wanted nothing more than to rub up against John until he relieved the tightness in his pants. It was a familiar sensation from Dartmoor… and back then he had taken a shower to hide that fact.

John turned over so he was facing the detective, still wrapped up in Sherlock’s embrace. “You haven’t been taking care of yourself. You’re thin… you look exhausted… your circulation is poor.”

Sherlock gave a soft chuckle and eased his hold on John to allow for the movement, his hand resting in the small of John’s back. “I’ll let you take care of me when this is over.”

John wrapped his arm around Sherlock’s side, and bowed his head under the taller man’s chin. “I’m sorry… I’m being a little… clingy.”

“You think I’ll disappear if you let go.” Sherlock replied, remembering what John had said before.

“I’ve been dreaming about you… many of my dreams end up like this.”

“Oh?” Sherlock asked, unsure what to expect.

“You showing up… Surprise! You’re not dead! You tell me how you did it… why you did it. It’s always a stupid reason. Then you kiss me… and I hold you… and then things get interesting.”

“How interesting?” Sherlock breathed.

“Our snogging becomes… shagging… which is crazy because I never imagined you to be a sexual person… except maybe with Irene. Just when I tell you that I love you… you disappear and I wake up alone. But while it’s happening it’s so real. I think I’m awake and I try to explain to you how I keep dreaming it. You tell me it is real… and we start to go at it. At first I was shy… but I’ve given up on being shy. Sometimes I’m on top… sometimes you are. It feels real and when I tell you how much I love you… I wake up. I always wake up.”

Sherlock closed his eyes, trying to imagine the dream John had been a part of… trying to imagine himself shagging his only friend. Theoretically he knew how it was done… he just never thought of it practically. It bothered him that he had no clue how to go about shagging John. They’d probably end up with an elbow in the ear or someone with a bruised belly button if he were to try it now without proper research. Frankly it never occurred to him that John would want that sort of relationship with him. Hearing it made him happy… and more than a little nervous. No one ever wanted him in that way… but if it was John… Suddenly he was aware that John had gone still. “You alright?”

“Just thinking.” John replied.

Sherlock shifted so he lay on his back with John using his chest as a pillow. “We should get some sleep.”

“I guess it’s time for the obligatory… I love you.” With a sigh, John closed his eyes and soon fell asleep.

Sherlock ran a hand through John’s hair and rested it on his back as he too closed his eyes. There was no surprise from John’s sentiment. Sherlock knew that John loved him… often times John was frustrated with him or upset by him… but there was always the undercurrent of sentiment… of “love” as John called it. John was a very loving man. The sentiment warmed him to hear it, and his cock made a half-hearted twinge which it never did with anyone else. Sherlock could allow John to love him… just as he allowed Mummy to love him. But John had qualities Mummy didn’t have… special warmth that touched him in deep places that made him ache the whole time John was gone from his side… like he was missing a part of himself. Just spending an hour or two with John made him feel complete again and he knew that when John was tucked away with Mycroft he would ache again with loss… with loneliness. 

^.~

John woke alone. That didn’t surprise him in the least. What he remembered as the previous night could only have been a dream. It was disappointing that he hadn’t gotten a chance to make love to Sherlock in the dream… but there was always next time. To make sure there hadn’t been any nocturnal emissions he reached down to his pants, surprised that he still wore his jeans and his socks. Then he noticed the bed wasn’t his own and he was in a room that looked a lot like last night’s dream. The only part missing was Sherlock. 

The bathroom door opened and Sherlock stepped out, using a towel to dry his hair. Steam followed him out of the bathroom and there was a towel wrapped around his waist. Seeing John he smiled. “Mycroft’s minions will be here in about 15 minutes to take you to Mycroft’s house.”

John blinked at him and shook his head, trying to clear it, unsure if he was really seeing a half-naked Sherlock in the bathroom doorway.

“You can take a shower if you like… there’s still hot water and towels.” Sherlock cast his waist towel aside and went to his pile of clothing, unmindful to the fact that he was naked. 

“It keeps going…”

Sherlock pulled on his trousers without pants, tucking those into his pocket before reaching for his shirt. “What keeps going?”

“This dream…”

“You’re not dreaming.” Sherlock replied, buttoning up his shirt. “Are you going to take a shower?”

John shook his head. “I have nothing to change into.”

“I’ll change when we get to Mycroft’s. He’ll have something for you to wear. He knows you’re with me.”

“Then why shower here?” John felt confused and still more than a little sleepy.

“I had a… little accident when I woke up.” Sherlock blushed. 

“Accident?”

Sherlock bit his lips and stared at John through squinted eyes. “Yes… I haven’t had one since puberty.”

“Oh?” John’s brain stalled. “OH! You mean…?”

“I got a little overwhelmed by you this morning when I woke up. If you really must know…”

John’s eyes went wide. “You had… a wet dream about me?”

Sherlock turned a lovely shade of red and coughed. “You should get up. If you’re hungry there’s some food in the mini fridge.” 

“What time is it?”

Sherlock shrugged. “Six in the morning.”

“God… it’s early…” John lay back on the bed. “I don’t suppose I can go back to sleep?”

“When you get to Mycroft’s you can go back to bed.” Sherlock sat on the bed and put his socks and shoes back on. 

John watched the other man, bent over his feet to tie shoe laces. Reaching out he lightly touched Sherlock’s side. 

Sherlock stopped and sat up straight. Looking over his shoulder he smiled at John. “Are you sure you’re not hungry? You get grumpy without breakfast.”

“Too early. I’m not awake yet.” John replied.

There was a knock at the door.

^.~

Truthfully it hadn’t been a wet dream because Sherlock hadn’t been asleep. Waking sometime around 5:30 in the morning he panicked, unsure why he was half pinned to the bed. It was only by the faint light of his mobile that he realized the weight half atop him was John. Wrapping his arms around the comforting weight he closed his eyes again. 

John shifted in his sleep and a warm thigh pressed between Sherlock’s legs, feeling the other man rub against his groin. Shocked and somewhat horrified he felt his penis harden. Moving his hips away only caused more delicious friction. 

Within five minutes of John’s unconscious movement Sherlock found himself rubbing himself shamelessly against John’s thigh. The friction and the weight over him made everything feel even better. Within another minute his orgasm struck and he gasped for air as he felt the warmth pulse within his pants. It was then that he realized the real mistake of his stolen moment… there wasn’t anything to change into. There weren’t any clothes tucked away at the safe house.

Carefully he slid out from under John and went to the bathroom to undress and rinse out his pants in the sink. Then he took a shower to be rid of the rest of the evidence.

As he sat beside John in Mycroft’s car there were moments of shame. Mycroft would know… would see that Sherlock wasn’t completely put together… that his damp pants were stuffed into his pocket rather than covering his ass as they should be. Either that or Mycroft would smell some sort of funk even though Sherlock had been careful to wash himself so none of the incriminating evidence remained. But he knew Mycroft would know… and worse still Mycroft might inform John. “John…”

John glanced at Sherlock expectantly. Of course John already knew that Sherlock had had an accident. John would stand up for him… label it as a night emission even if Mycroft imagined Sherlock had been awake for it. “What is it?”

“Don’t tell Mycroft about this morning…” Sherlock replied quickly.

John smiled shyly and blushed. “Alright.”

“I mean… he’ll probably guess… something about me will be off and he’ll pounce on it… but…”

“I get it, Sherlock. It’s embarrassing.”

“Right…” Sherlock replied. “He may even think I was awake when it happened.”

“Why would he think that?” John asked quietly. 

Sherlock frowned and bit his lip. “He used to monitor my sheets… and he knew my pattern…”

John shook his head and chuckled. “So… were you awake this morning?”

“I may have been…”

John leaned against him and continued to chuckle. “I won’t tell.”

“I’m sorry…”

“God, Sherlock… don’t be sorry because you’re human… and male… and not impotent!”

Sherlock gave a soft chuckle and leaned into John, taking whatever comfort he could for the remainder of the car ride. Upon arrival at Mycroft’s Sherlock got John settled into a room near his own. “Mycroft will take care of you…”

“What? Wait, no!” John replied, crowding into Sherlock’s space. “We’re doing this together.”

“I can’t do that.” Sherlock replied, trying to push John away.

“Yes, you can! There’s only one tail left, right? Mine! I can pull him out. He’s looking for me.”

“We’ve been over this… I don’t want you to be harmed.”

“And I appreciate the sentiment, really I do, Sherlock… but we’re doing this together. I have your back.”

“John…”

“Damnit, Sherlock… I’ve already lost you once… don’t make me go through that again! Not while I can help you. There’s only ONE left. Take me with you.”

“He’s not going to back down…” Mycroft commented airily from down the hallway. “Stubborn.”

“Shut up, Mycroft!” Sherlock responded. “John… you don’t understand! You’re the target! If things go wrong you will die.”

“I’d rather die helping you than live through another one of your deaths any day.”

“John… please don’t…”

John reached out and touched Sherlock’s cheek. “Trust me?”

Slowly Sherlock nodded. “Mycroft… we’re going to need a few things.”

“Of course.” Mycroft replied. “Your last tail is named Colonel Sebastian Moran.”

John blinked and nodded. “Military?”

“Yes… sniper.”

“John…” Sherlock quietly pleaded.

“We’ll do this, Sherlock… and then we’ll go home. Do you want to come home with me?”

Silently Sherlock nodded. 

“Back to Baker Street with Mrs. Hudson and Lestrade bringing us cases?”

Sherlock nodded again.

“Then let’s do this… so we can go home.” John touched Sherlock’s cheek and smiled. “What else can you tell us, Mycroft?”

“I can tell you that Sherlock isn’t wearing any knickers… interesting. But as to the matter at hand…” Mycroft took a deep breath and began.

TBC...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There will be one more chapter using Empty House as inspiration...


	3. Stars

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Inspired by "Empty House" from the original canon... but with a twist!

John was beginning to get stiff from crouching down on the floor, staring out the window of the empty flat across from his own flat. For the millionth time he wished the action would start so he could get up and move. Across the way in his own flat there was the flicker of the telly. Every once in a while there was movement of two people on the sofa in front of the telly. His attention focused on the two who sat together. Vaguely he wished he could be sitting on the sofa instead of crouching on a dusty floor, staring into his own flat like a voyeur.

^.~

John stared at them, somewhat in shock. Both sat before him, naked. The bodies weren’t correct but the heads and faces… “What are they?”

“These, Dr. Watson, are a rather expensive sex toy. They are dolls… silicon dolls. Male bodies, unfortunately, come mostly standard in shape… the variety is in the female model. But the faces and hair are eerily accurate, don’t you agree?”

John blinked and blinked again, his eyes staying on the sex doll version of himself and Sherlock. “Maybe I mean… WHY are they?”

“Decoys.” Mycroft replied with a satisfied grin.

“You think Moran will be fooled by decoys?” Sherlock asked, glancing at John’s doll.

“Oh but they do so much more than sit pretty. Touch one.” Mycroft beamed.

“I’d rather not…” John replied.

Sherlock sighed and reached out to touch his own doll, frowning a bit. “What?”

“Some people like their doll to have a little more… reality. There’s a circulatory system under the skin that heats it for a more realistic experience.”

“Heat?” John cautiously reached out and touched his own doll, feeling the approximation of warm flesh under his fingers. “That’s… rather disturbing.”

“Human temperature… If you cover it with clothing and it will pass a human heat signature for any thermal detection.” Mycroft stated proudly. “But that’s not the best part.” Holding up a remote control he pressed a button. Immediately on the bed Sherlock’s doll began to gyrate its hips, causing John’s doll to nearly fall off the bed.

“Shit!” John stepped back, his eyes on Sherlock’s doll’s hips and flailing erect penis. It was a sex doll so the penis had to be erect. 

Sherlock caught the John doll before he could fall to the floor. “Turn it off!”

“Of course…” Mycroft replied as he watched his brother assist the fallen doll to sit on the bed beside its companion. “That part amuses me… there’s a motor in there so the owner of the doll can have a realistic… experience. Mouth and anus have removable lining for easy cleaning, of course.”

“So that’s your plan? To have these things shag on John’s couch in view of a window for easy sniper bait?” Sherlock asked, crossing his arms over his chest.

“That’s just the standard doll equipment. After my team got done with them they can do so much more.” Mycroft pressed another button and there was movement on the bed. It was subtle and random… but Sherlock’s double shifted as it were a real human sitting on the bed changing position. “And that’s not the best part! They can interact!” Mycroft pulled out another remote control and turned on John’s double. It shifted to lean against its companion’s shoulder, turning its head as if to look to Sherlock. The Sherlock doll turned its head to face the John before looking away, leaning a bit closer to the John doll. “Bait that moves realistically!”

“Wow…” John breathed, taking a step closer to his own double. The doll didn’t blink, breathe or move its mouth but already it looked real. “Wow!”

“So we set these up in John’s flat… maybe watching telly together… and wait to see what happens.” Sherlock nodded his approval. 

^.~

Sherlock tapped John’s arm to get his attention before indicating the door to the vacant flat they were hiding inside. Footsteps were softly approaching and the door handle started to turn. Quickly Sherlock shined his torch out the window, flicking it a few times. There was an answering flicker from street level.

The door opened and John held his breath, hidden in the dark corner and pressed against Sherlock. Watching in silence he saw a man approach the windows, fixated on what was outside of them. Carefully the man lifted the sniper rifle and cited along the barrel. There was a shot and a sound of breaking glass.

Instantly Sherlock had pushed John aside and tackled the man who had no time to respond to the madman who pounced from the darkness. The gun was lost in the struggle and lay useless off to the side where John scooped it up and moved it further away, his eyes on his partner struggling with the sniper on the floor. Then the door to the flat burst open and Lestrade appeared with a handful of Met. 

^.~

John assessed the damage to his flat. The window had a bullet hole in it. On the floor at his feet lay a sex doll with part of its head missing. Shivering as he crouched beside his own double, John rubbed his face. For a moment he lingered, glancing up at Sherlock’s unaffected doll. Someone approached behind him and he looked up at the real Sherlock. “I was the target.”

Sherlock nodded mutely. “Moran was your tail. His job was to take you out if there was any indication that I was actually alive… he was Moriarty’s most trusted man. Moriarty put his most important man on the job knowing he wouldn’t miss. It looks like he didn’t.” Sherlock crouched down beside John and lightly touched what was left of the doll’s face. “I’m sorry.”

“Sorry?”

“I’m sorry for my double… He just lost his partner. They didn’t even get a chance to finish their first date.” Sherlock flicked a smile.

“I suppose we could have my double repaired… get him a new head.” John replied casually, standing back up. “Then your double won’t be lonely.”

Sherlock stood up and leaned into John. “You ready to go home? Mycroft and Lestrade can finish up here.”

“I… yeah… sure.” And once again John followed Sherlock out of a flat.

^.~

John emerged from the bathroom, damp but clean. His clothes were draped over his arm and he wore a pair of pajamas covered with his dressing gown. “Shower is free.”

Sherlock looked up from where he sat and offered John a quick smile. 

It had been a week since Moran had been taken into custody and life on Baker Street had not yet gone back to normal. There was still tension in the air… and Sherlock smiled a little more… somewhat fleetingly but constant. 

“Mycroft fixed your doll.” Sherlock stated. 

“It’s not my doll per se…” John replied, rearranging the cloths on his arm. 

“Well… doll in the shape of you.” Sherlock amended.

“Truthfully… he wasn’t exactly in my shape… just my face. The body type was completely wrong for both of us… hands, feet… EVERYTHING!”

Sherlock smirked. “Not everything…” Hands resting against his lips Sherlock smirked. 

“What? What did they get right?”

Sherlock flicked his eyes down to his own lap and then back up again at John with a soft smirk.

John thought back on Sherlock’s doll… the erect phallus waving obscenely as Mycroft made it move. “No… YOU maybe… but not me.”

“We can amend that.” Sherlock replied, resting his hands on the arms of his chair.

“Why does Mycroft know what your dick looks like?” John demanded.

Sherlock smiled and shrugged. “Seen me naked enough, I suppose. Probably has some embarrassing pictures of me tucked away somewhere… Lord knows I was unconscious enough around him for him to find the opportunity.” 

“We should probably change the subject.” John muttered.

Sherlock beckoned the other man closer, taking his clothes from him and tossing them away. Grabbing John’s hand before he could protest, he pulled John down onto his lap.

“I’m sorry…” John blushed.

“Why?” Sherlock asked.

“Telling you what I did on New Years… about my dreams.”

“Why are you sorry about that?” Sherlock asked quietly.

“It’s… not the sort of relationship we have.” John replied. “I probably made you uncomfortable because you’re not into that.”

“You’re right.” Sherlock admitted quietly. “But that doesn’t mean we can’t try. If it’s something you want… something you need from me I’m willing to try.”

“Sherlock… you really don’t have to.”

“As Mycroft can tell you… I’ve never been with anyone… but if it’s you… I think I’ll be alright.”

John blushed and bowed his head, staring down at his own hands. “We shouldn’t… I don’t want to lose what we have.”

Sherlock reached up and gently touched John’s cheek. “Please… John?” With a quick smirk he giggled. “It’s either you or the doll.”

“Oh god!” John moaned.

“Unless you’d rather have my doll…”

“Gods, no! I would rather have a living, breathing lover, thanks.” 

“Good… because I think they’d get jealous if we broke them up…” Sherlock teased, licking his lips.

John watched the pink tongue emerge and hide again. Leaning down he kissed those perfect lips. 

Sherlock kissed back, his penis showing a lot of interest in the matter of John’s lips and weight upon his lap. It could only stand so much attention before it had to take matters into its own figurative hands. Sherlock slid out from under John and led him to the bedroom.

Of course John followed.

Fin

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed that. I was inspired by a company called Real Doll. Unfortunately they don't move by themselves... I made that part up. I can't remember if they have heating elements to them... I remember reading ages ago that they did (or a similar company did) but I could be wrong.
> 
> One of them shows up in season 8 of House MD (Episode "We could use the eggs").

**Author's Note:**

> I saw the broadway show in 1990 with my high school French club. I have the song books... I used them when I was in musical theater and learned Fantine, Eponine and Cosette's songs. I saw the movie on opening day. Yes, I cried the whole time from Fantine onwards. What inspired me to write this was actually "Empty Chairs At Empty Tables." 
> 
> I like it. It made the musical theater geek in me happy to hear the recitatives instead of them turning it into dialog like Phantom of the Opera. There were a few spoken spots that had once been sung, but not many. And I was also struck with awe that the pacing of the movie is almost entirely confined by the music... and it's music a lot of people know so they'd notice if you ad-libbed anything. They changed some of the phrasing and some of the words (they changed word pronunciation so it didn't always rhyme) but it was mostly all there from what you would hear in the original cast recording. But only musical theater geeks would notice. ^^v And after seeing it on stage where the actors are all dots and you can barely see them... it's nice to have EXTREME close up for the solos.


End file.
